


You're All I Have

by Soule



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:31:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9387314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soule/pseuds/Soule
Summary: The Love is in the Air festival is in full swing in the Hall of the Guardian, but Anarchaia is once again having nothing to do with it.Oneshot nsfw fic for the AnaGar shippers in the Grim and Ana fandom.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a NON-CANON nsfw fic in the Grim and Ana storyline. If you are not an Anarchaia/Khadgar shipper I advise you stop reading now before your view of their precious cinnamon roll relationship is corrupted forever. 
> 
> You've been warned. If you read on anyway, I no longer feel sorry for you.

                The hallways outside her living quarters reverberated with the sounds of orchestral music, the clinking of silverware, and the low hum of multiple voices at once. Before her death, Anarchaia had never celebrated the _Love is in the Air_ holiday, and she didn’t really do so after, either. She sat on the floor before her full-length mirror, black dress draped over her legs so that her toes poked out from beneath. She furrowed her brow and tucked her feet in to hide them. Even after three years she couldn’t stand the sight of her bones.

                She picked at the black satin of her gloves before she pushed her hair out of her face. She’d need a mask, too. Sighing, Anarchaia pushed her nose into her knees and hugged them tightly to her chest. A knock was heard at the door.

                “Who is it?” she yelled into her legs.

                She couldn’t hear what the man on the other side had said but she recognized the voice. Without moving an inch, Anarchaia loosened the lock holding her bedroom door shut.

                “Ana?” It always took Khadgar a moment to locate her whenever he’d step into her room since she’d never answer the door in person. His face fell into the slightest of frowns upon seeing her curled up on the floor. “Again?”

                She nodded, not looking up at him.

                He closed the door behind himself and strode over to settle upon the rug beside her. With a hand nestled within a white glove, Khadgar pushed her hair away to get a look at her face but she turned her head. “I’m not going to ask you to come downstairs.”

                “Good, because I’m not going to say I will.”

                He retracted his hand and placed it upon one of his knees while setting his chin in the palm of the other. “Do you want to talk about it?”

                Anarchaia gave a half-hearted shrug. “We’ve been through this. It’s nothing new.”

                “Perhaps actually reaching out to your peers here and around the city would help.”

                “You say that every year, too.”

                “Then why not make this the year you heed my advice?”

                She chewed on her lip. “I don’t know…”

                “I’m obviously not going to coerce you into doing something you don’t want to do. You’re a great student. You work hard. You deserve your solitude.” His fingers curled around her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “Holidays are meant to be spent with those you care most about-“

                “I don’t care about any of those people,” she interjected.

                “ _And,_ ” Khadgar continued, “if the person you care most about is yourself, that’s perfectly acceptable.”

                A pang of guilt rang through Anarchaia’s chest and she groaned.

                He wrapped his arms around her in a gentle hug. “Regardless of your decision, Happy Heart Day.”

                She put a palm on his arm and mumbled “Happy Heart Day, Master Khadgar.”

                With a final pat upon her head, Khadgar stood and left her to herself, leaving nothing in his wake but the faint smell of his seasonal cologne.

 

 

               

                The night had weighed heavily on him and, while he hadn’t had anything to drink, Khadgar was eager to greet his bed. He pushed his door shut with his back while simultaneously unbuttoning the golden fasteners of his bright red tunic. Lids heavy, he shrugged it off his shoulders and threw it over the chair beside his writing desk, followed by his gloves.

                “I’d reconsider before you continue undressing.”

                He jumped and turned to his blazing fireplace. A familiar silhouette sat in the lounge sofa before it, the flames creating dancing oranges and reds on her opalescent hair. “Ana. How long have you been in here?”

                “A while. I stopped by and grabbed a glass of champagne before coming up, though.” She held the glass up by the stem, the bubbles sparkling in the firelight. “I promise I won’t spill it.”

                He stepped over, placing his hands on the back of the sofa and leaning over to look down at her. “What are you doing here? Is something the matter?”

                Anarchaia craned her head backward to return his gaze, her red eyes peering up at him through the holes of a raven mask – its black feathers crowned her face. “You said holidays were meant to be spent with those you care most about.”

                Touched, he smiled warmly. “I did.”

                She patted the space beside her. “Come.”

                He obliged, sitting beside her in the heat of the fire. “You could have told me. You know I don’t mind spending time with you.”

                “I wanted you to go have fun first.” She sipped at her drink and rubbed a gloved finger on the rim to remove the gloss from her lips. Placing a slender leg over a knee, she bobbed a foot laced within a high heel. “Did you?”

                “Did I? Have fun?” Khadgar scratched at the back of his neck and draped an arm over the back of the couch. “Of course. I enjoy studying and doing my part for the world, but relaxing with friends and loved ones still trumps all that.” He looked into the fire. “It’s nice to forget your responsibilities for a time.”

                She grinned. “Yeah.”

                A gentle silence fell over them – not awkward, but peaceful.

                From behind her mask, Anarchaia glanced over at her mentor, first admiring how finely he’d shined his boots and belt, then watching how the fire shone on the seams of his dark leather breeches, and lastly lifting her gaze to the feathering of hazel and silver chest hair poking out from the scoop in his linen undershirt. She lifted her drink to him quizzically.

                He took it and drank, but when he tried to hand it back she shook her head and smiled so he set it atop the end table.

                “I can’t stomach much these days.”

                Khadgar quickly turned back to glance at her as she said this, already going over theories in his head. “How so? Are you feeling okay? Is it the shard?”

                Anarchaia instinctually put a hand over her stomach where the Chronomatic Shard had been inserted into her, most likely still snuggled comfortably between her organs. “No, I just meant-“

                “If you’re having adverse effects to that it’s imperative that you let me know.”

                “I know. I’m not having problems with the shard.”

                “Have you been visiting the infirmary to get it looked at?” He knew she wasn’t but wanted to hear her say it herself.

                She hesitated and muttered a reluctant “no” under her breath.

                Khadgar clenched his jaw in irritation. “Ana, how many times have I told you to get it checked? Chronomancy is incredibly volatile. Do you realize what could happen if it fails?”

                “I’d begin to decay again.”

                “Not only that but you could cause an aberration in time! Albeit a small one, but still dangerous nonetheless!”

                “I’m sorry,” she groaned, “I just-”

                “Are more concerned with how you look.”

                She turned away, gripping the fabric of her dress tightly. “You’re right.”

                “Let me see.”

                She whirled back around. “W-What?”

                Khadgar gently grabbed one of her wrists and pulled it away from her core. “You’ve let it go unchecked for far too long.”

                Anarchaia flushed brightly and grimaced but otherwise did not retort, knowing the matter to be more important than her embarrassment. She tensed as his palm spread over her navel. Violet smoke filtered up through his fingers, filling the space between his hand and her stomach. A dull pain eked its way through her body, making its way to the flesh at the base of her fingers and toes and eventually into the space in the back of her eye sockets. She hissed and clenched her eyes shut. That had been another reason she wasn’t getting her monthly checkups – they hurt. Her fingers twitched as she resisted the urge to make any noise.

                After a moment, Khadgar pulled away and sighed. “You’re fine…seemingly. Promise me you’ll make your appointments?”

                She nodded sheepishly, rubbing at her knuckles to ease the ache. “I apologize.” She swallowed hard.

                “You needn’t apologize. Just take care of yourself? Please?”

                Something about his pleading pulled at her heart. Anarchaia turned to glance at him. “You…really care about me.”

                He sat back up, his eyes filling with a hurt confusion. “Of course I do. Ana, it’s been three years.” Placing a hand on her ankle, he lowered his head to look into the holes of her mask. “Was there ever any doubt?”

                She couldn’t bring herself to hold eye contact and turned away. “I-I knew you cared about me,” she said, flustered. “I just didn’t think you cared _that much_. Your other apprentices…”

                “My other students lasted barely months before either quitting or…” He cleared his throat. “None left me enough time to become socially attached.”

                Anarchaia rubbed at a shoulder with a gloved hand. After a moment, she set her fingers over the back of his knuckles and hugged his hand within her own. “I care about you, too,” she responded quietly. Her head tilted slightly back toward him to give him a sideways glance. “A lot.”

                Smiling his warm, welcoming smile, Khadgar pulled the mask from her face and tossed it carelessly to the rug, then pulled her face to his with a thumb and forefinger. He pressed his lips to her forehead, still mildly surprised at how cool her skin remained despite the roaring fireplace.

                She released his hand to wrap her arms around his torso and pulled him into a tight embrace that he happily returned. Burying her face in his shoulder, she sniffled. “You’re all I have.”

                His blue eyes widened slightly and he brought a hand up to cradle the back of her head, her snowy hair tangling in his fingers. Khadgar opened his lips to respond but decided against saying anything, choosing instead to hold her tighter as her bony fingers dug into his back. The scent of her sweet perfume and oils filled his nostrils and he pressed his cheek to the side of her head, closing his eyes.

                His eyes, however, sprung back open when her silent fingers trailed their way down to his belt buckle. Grasping her shoulders, Khadgar pulled away from her and stared incredulously into her pale blue eye. He opened his mouth to inquire but she cut him off.

                “I’m so sorry. I-I just...I know you’re older than me but only by a few years-“

                “That’s not the problem-“

                “I’m not your type?”

                “Ana, no-“

                Her sparkling eye widened in horror and she covered her face with her hands. “O-Oh my gods,” she said, turning away. “How could I be so stupid? Why would you ever want to…?” She laughed quietly with a hand on her cheek. “I-I just forget what I am when I’m around you.”

                Khadgar furrowed his brow and reached again for her hand. “It’s not that. I’m your _teacher_.” He waited for her to look at him. “I could never justify having that sort of relationship with a student.”

                Her red pupils gazed into his face. “It’s not because of my face?”

                The corners of his lips pulled into a small smile and he brushed her hair behind her ear. “I happen to like your face.”

                She flushed and returned his grin. Her thin fingers came up to caress the stubble on his cheek. “I happen to like yours, too.” As gently as she could, Anarchaia ran the tip of her thumb over the lines in his face and for a moment wondered what he’d look like had he not been afflicted with Medivh’s curse. The dim red light within her eye socket smoldered behind the veil of her hair. Her ivory lashes fell to her cheeks as she, in a stroke of fearlessness, leaned up to kiss him. Her heart jolted within her chest when her lips unexpectedly found his. Despite his short argument on morality, he hadn’t moved or pulled away.

                Khadgar’s mind raced. He shouldn’t be doing this. It was really, _really_ wrong. But he didn’t stop her and the point to do so had come and gone. His brain eventually accepted defeat long after his body had and he returned her kiss. He wrapped his arms around her once again, his fingers tracing the shallow valley in the center of her back. It’d been so long. Too long. Research and study had always taken precedence.

                Anarchaia sighed contentedly into his lips and ran her fingers down his chest. Again she stopped at the buckle, deftly unfastening it and pulling it through the loops in one swift motion, dropping it hard to the floor. She unlaced his leather pants and pushed them away just enough to pull free his length. Even with her gloved hands, only a few strokes was needed to get him as hard as she’d liked. She smiled into their kiss when she’d heard him groan with her touches. She’d decided she’d repay him for all his kindness.

                Gently, she brought a palm up to push him back so that his upper spine rested against the armrest of the sofa. She pushed his undershirt up slightly to run her hands over the warm skin of his torso. Even ailed by the curse, Master Khadgar had refused to allow his body to shrivel. There’d been many occasions where she’d joined him in exercise. _An active body begets an active mind_ he’d always say. He was by no means muscular, but he was far from out of shape.

                “Ana, we shouldn’t,” he said in a hushed tone as she positioned herself over him on her hands and knees.

                “No, probably not,” she responded, kissing the space under his jaw, “but you aren’t stopping me.” Slowly she hiked up the skirts of her dress. She hadn’t worn any under garments lest they show through her outfit. Their most private areas cloaked beneath her skirts, Anarchaia pressed the lips of her loins against his manhood.

                Khadgar’s jaw clenched and he brought a hand up to her waist while running the other up the smoothness of her thigh. “You’re wet?” he breathed questioningly.

                “I am,” she hummed, grinding their parts together and biting at her lower lip. “Is that surprising?”

                “To an extent,” he grunted, his fingers pressing into her hip. The scourge and Forsaken had only existed for a short time and little was known about them beyond their inability to procreate or die.

                Anarchaia gave a shallow gasp as the apex of her slit collided with the ridge at the top of his length. She leaned down to push her forehead into his collarbone. “Would you mind if I… _nn_ …took off my gloves?” She wanted to feel the warmth of his flesh in her palms like she did whenever they’d inadvertently touch – a high-five, a hug, a playful push. His skin was the only kind she’d felt since her death as she made great efforts to hide her hands from anyone else.

                “If you’d like.” He closed his eyes and again took in the scent of her hair. “Are you feeling pleasure from this?”

                Anarchaia pulled her gloves off with her teeth and tossed them to the side. She pushed her hands up, under his shirt and against his chest. The warmth of his body and the beating of his heart made her cheeks flush and she nodded. “Are you taking notes?” she joked, glancing at his drunken expression.

                “For research,” he replied, giving a breathless chuckle.

                She laughed airily in return and leaned forward, reaching down beneath her dress to grab his fully engorged member – now slick with her own fluids of arousal – and relished in the heat it gave off. “Let’s do some research together, then.” She positioned the head at her entrance.

                “You mustn’t tell anyone about this,” he said quietly before she could continue, his half-lidded blue eyes locking with hers.

                Anarchaia smiled at him – the wide, trademark grin he’d grown to adore – and pushed down on him slowly. “About what?” she sang coyly, knowing full well what he’d meant. A quiet groan rang through her throat as she lowered herself completely over his length. She closed her eyes and paused, taking that moment to enjoy a feeling she hadn’t had in years.

                Khadgar grit his teeth and his own low growl sounded out from behind the lump in his throat. Her depths were so hot. Hotter than any he’d felt. A heat beyond explanation. Her fingers twitched against his chest and he looked into her face, wondering how much she was truly feeling.

                When she started moving her hips, Anarchaia took in every sound she earned from him, taking each groan and sigh as a gold star of approval. She began slow, lifting herself until he was nearly removed, and swiveling her hips as she lowered herself once again. A smile pulled at her glistening lips again when he gripped her hip tightly. It was subtle but he’d try to pull her back down quicker than the speed she’d chosen. “Are you feeling pleasure from this?” she parroted playfully, digging her bony fingertips into his flesh.

                “It isn’t obvious?” he gasped, his left hand joining his right at her waist.

                “Answering my questions with more questions?” She ground her groin against his and bit her lip again, stifling a moan.

                “Yes,” Khadgar confessed, smiling the slightest of smiles. “It feels amazing.”

                “You want me to go faster?”

                “If it’d please you.” His normally strong, confident voice had dwindled to a breathy grumble. “I’m not one to complain.”

                Anarchaia leaned back and placed a hand on his knee and the other against the backrest. Her pacing increased along with her desire and she moaned as he caressed the front most walls of her insides. “Master,” she panted, doing her damnedest to be as quiet as she could lest the students in the hallway hear. She furrowed her brow and whimpered behind grit teeth.

                “Ana,” he exhaled in response, sweat beading around his temples and the chords of his neck.

                Not wanting to wait any longer, Anarchaia pushed herself forward, grasping his shoulders in either hand. With a greater craving, she thrust him into her over and over. Each grind against the spot within her canal sent a jolt through her core and she’d moan and mewl. Her forehead pressed against his collarbone once again, she put both hands over her mouth to smother her noises.

                Khadgar also lowered his head, breathing heavily but otherwise remaining quiet save for the occasional groan. His forearms tensed as he hungrily pushed her back onto him whenever she pulled herself up. Thoughts of regret and right-and-wrong had left him, replaced with a need for release. The curiosity of whether or not she had the capability of reaching orgasm crossed his mind but he figured he’d have his answer soon enough.

                “C-Close,” she gasped as if on cue or perhaps reading his thoughts. “Don’t sto- _ah!-_ op.”

                “You’re the one in control,” he panted into her ear along with a half-laugh half-groan.

                “I know,” she whined between breaths she didn’t need to take. “It f-felt like the right thing to say.” Anarchaia cried out sharply as the first sparks of her ecstasy shot through her. Each time she buried him within her, the sparks grew in intensity before finally bursting through her being in an explosion of warmth, tingling, and bliss. Her head whirled and her toes curled as she cried out into her hands.

                Khadgar’s breath hitched in his throat as her insides clamped down and spasmed around his manhood, sending him over his own precipice. He managed to keep the sound of his climax to a low growl as he pulled her chest into his. Her meager yet soft breasts squished against him.

                The two quietly trembled in each other’s embrace for a fleeting moment before collapsing in unison into a breathless, tangled mass.

                Khadgar ran a hand over his forehead and hair, the back of his head nestled against the armrest of his sofa. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly through parted lips. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

                Anarchaia pushed her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes, the feeling of his pounding heart calming her immensely. She sighed and smiled, nuzzling into him and enjoying an intimacy she hadn’t felt since she lived. “Probably not.”

                A long silence lingered in the air around them filled with nothing but the crackling of the fire and quiet breathing. Finally gaining the strength and courage to look down at her, Khadgar lifted his head to gaze over her motionless body – her one leg curled up between himself and the backrest while the other dangled elegantly over the edge of the sofa, her arms tucked neatly beneath her torso, her now messy white hair draped over his chest. When he attempted to sit up she remained unmoving atop him.

                “Ana?” Softly he pushed a lock of hair from her face. To his amazement she’d fallen asleep, something he’d been sure she’d never do again. Sighing one last time, Khadgar let his head fall back to the armrest, not having the heart to wake her.


End file.
